


Holy Water

by Livelysky



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Jeno with knives, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Protective Lee Taeyong, everyone wants to kiss jaehyun, jaemin in skirts, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livelysky/pseuds/Livelysky
Summary: Mark was an adrenaline junkie. His position in the gang was valued. He'd trained from a young age to get drunk off of the thrill of the chase, to have no fear. The cops didn't scare him. Neither did his best friends who threatened and killed people for a living. God himself didn't scare him. And so it made sense that the one thing that scared him was this. Lee Jeno.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	Holy Water

**Author's Note:**

> title and vibes taken from holy water by sakima and hard feelings/loveless by lorde
> 
> shoutout to my loves @venusbot and @smartlove who hype me up constantly <3

Streetlights reflected off of Mark's pistol as he shoved it into his holster and covered it with his jacket, shivering slightly at the night's chill. He'd told the gang he was taking a night off. Taeyong had woven him off and Jaemin had given him a look (which he'd ignored.) It was technically a night off. 

"Mark lee," a voice said, like it was a declaration. It was how Jeno greeted Mark every night they met up. Dramatic fuck. 

"You're late," Mark replied. 

Jeno held up his hands. Pale, long fingered, clean. Mark knew they were bloodstained. He knew the long black sleeves hid wickedly sharp knives that glinted like jeno's eyes.  
"Apologies. I got.... caught up." 

"Caught up killing one of my friends?"  
It wasn’t entirely a joke.

Jeno walked closer, his angular face illuminated by the lamp, and leaned in, his gold gaze playful. "Don't flatter yourself" he whispered. 

Mark's lips tingled as Jeno's breath ghosted over them.

He wanted to say he hated it. The way he felt tongue tied. The lack of control. But the truth was, he relished it. It was fascinating to him, this new feeling. Thrilling. 

Mark was an adrenaline junkie. His position in the gang was valued. He'd trained from a young age to get drunk off of the thrill of the chase, to have no fear. The cops didn't scare him. Neither did his best friends who threatened and killed people for a living. God himself didn't scare him. And so it made sense that the one thing that scared him was this. Jeno's shark-black eyes which held surprising depth. his cold knives and burning lips and firm touch. his broad shoulders and narrow hips and long legs. 

Mark pushed himself off the streetlamp and took off without another word, Jeno at his heels.

He loved to run. The cold wind tore at his face and he only went faster. On one rare occasion where Jeno had stayed after sex, they'd shared a cigarette and talked about it. The freedom that came with this life. How they both wished they could drink it all in and hold it in their stomachs. It didn't matter that they belonged to different gangs. They all had that feeling. Criminals simply didn't seem to discriminate the way the rest of society did.

When they reached the motel, Mark didn't let Jeno reach the room before grabbing him, pushing him against the stairwell wall and kissing him till neither of them could breathe.  
"Missed me?" Jeno said, his voice low. Mark's toes curled. He had, desperately. 

"Shut up," he said instead, tugging him into the room. 

Here's the thing. Mark had an excellent track of time. He was always punctual. He was a perfect shot, after all. He knew how many seconds to wait, how many breaths to take before pulling the trigger. He knew how long it took for a man to bleed out. He knew how many hours a night watch took at every time of the year.  
But here's the thing: the minute he fell into bed with Jeno, he lost all sense of time. 

It was the way Jeno deliberately took him apart, like he was a blade of a certain cut, a certain weight and shape that had to be spun a certain way. It wasn't gentle, not exactly. but there were certain times Mark let himself pretend Jeno was being tender. When his gaze softened for just a minute between kisses. When he waited for Mark's nod before trailing a burning path of kisses down his stomach and setting him completely aflame with his tongue. 

And the power trip when Mark returned the favour and Jeno moaned the names of Gods he vehemently didn't believe in? Mark could die high on it. 

Like with every other drug, the come-down was the worst part. It was the feeling of entering the gates of Heaven for a moment, only to be told you don't belong and be dropped all the way down to hell. 

That was another thing. Mark believed in a higher power, and Jeno did not. Mark didn't care, people had their own beliefs. He had friends who worshipped the devil but he'd never felt closer to God than when he was with Jeno.

Hours, days, weeks? later, when the night had stretched on and they'd christened enough surfaces in the room, Jeno rolled off the bed and pulled his shirt on.

Mark tried to hide his disappointment. "You're leaving?" 

"Why, expecting cuddles, babe?" 

Mark wanted to smack himself. What had he expected? it had been this way for ages, and it worked for them. They weren't exactly ride-off-into-the-sunset material. 

"Jaemin says I'm sleeping with the enemy," he said instead. 

Jeno paused. "and you? what do you think?" 

Mark laughed. "i think he's right, of course. you're dangerous, Lee Jeno." 

Jeno didn't look hurt. He simply shrugged elegantly, and leaned forward to give mark a lingering kiss. "Luckily for you, I'm also a gentleman," he said against Mark's lips. 

Mark resisted the urge to tug jenos hair and pull him in again. Instead he let go, and quirked an eyebrow.

Jeno laughed at his incredulity. "That was a goodnight kiss," he offered as an explanation. 

"Right. Goodnight, jeno." 

"Goodnight darling," he winked and then he was gone, leaving Mark to recalibrate his bearings.

***

Mark had first met Jeno a year ago on a mission. 

Taeyong had called a meeting, and when Mark strolled right on time into his unnecessarily ornate office, otherwise known as the headquarters of the Byzantine Empire. The name had started out as a joke, a kid wanting to be a king, but now it was their crest. Every crime they pulled off was marked with a purple stripe, the pinkish shade called ‘Byzantine.’ 

“The Black Pearl is sending men on this stakeout,” Taeyong was saying. “So naturally, I need you to do the same. Smiths is our vic. We aren’t letting them get away with all the glory.” 

“I can’t believe their gang is named after a Pirates of the Caribbean movie,” Jaemin muttered. 

“I don’t think the two are connected,” Hendery said with a frown. 

“They absolutely are. Jung Jaehyun is as pretty as Keira Knightley, anyway,” Jaemin said dreamily. 

“Enough,” Taeyong called. “This isn’t about how pretty they are. This is about the fact that they’re about to steal our mission. Mark and Jaemin, I want you on lookout duty.”

“Lookout?” the sharpshooter complained. “I thought I could-”

“No. No blood on this mission. Threaten them if you must, whatever you must do to get them out of our area. But you are not making the death of a Black Pearl member a reason to put a bigger target on our backs.”

“Yes, Taeyong,” Mark replied, secretly relieved. He was too tired to deal with a murder on his conscience tonight. 

“Jaemin, I need an answer from you.” 

“Fine.” Jaemin said glumly. 

“Good. Hendery can be on standby as backup. The rest of you, fuck off,” Taeyong waved his ringed fingers and Mark bit back a smile as some of the younger members looked hurt. 

Mark lingered as everyone filed out, Hendery and Jaemin included. The room seemed bigger when it was just the two of them, the spaced-out velvet-covered furniture and deep green walls making it look like royal chambers. Candles dimly flickered from their holders, even as an electric light cast warm light over the room. 

“What is it?” Taeyong sounded distracted, occupied with the documents littering his large desk in the middle of the room. 

“Tae hyung. How are you?”

Taeyong looked up and his eyes softened. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. We’ll do lunch on Thursday, okay?”

“That wasn’t - it’s fine,” he said hurriedly, and rushed out the door with no explanation. 

See, Taeyong was like a brother to Mark.  
Okay, that wasn’t it.  
_Mark_ was like a brother to _Taeyong_. He was one of the earliest members to join the gang, a scrawny thirteen year old with bruises everywhere. A kid he’d taken in. Someone to share his vision with. But to Mark, Taeyong was… everything. He was older, taller, so handsome. The first person to show him any kindness. The first person who’d believed in him, believed that he was worth something- worth saving. Taeyong never treated anyone like they didn’t deserve what they were worth. Money, family, strength - the gang gave Mark everything he’d never had and always wanted. Taeyong had given that to him. 

He shook his head and ignored Jaemin’s pointed silence as they set off towards the piazza where they were meant to be posted. Quite in contrast to most people, the deeper they delved into the nicer part of town, the more nervous and alert Mark got. Their gang’s targets were almost always rich men with too much food and too less morality. Say what you will about criminals, but at least they had a code of ethics. Rich and powerful men seemed to have hearts carved from obsidian. This particular expedition was a big one - he understood Taeyong’s desire to keep it to Byzantine. 

Mark had been prepared to scale the wall up to the roof, but they found an ornate iron staircase curving up to the terrace.  
“Rich people,” Jaemin muttered distastefully. “It’s like they’re asking for crime.”

Mark grinned. “I’m going to do a quick recon- you wait here. Black Pearl’s men should be on the roof next to this one, so stay low.”

“That what loverboy said?” Jaemin jabbed. 

Mark flipped him off and scrambled in the other direction, ignoring when Jaemin gave him a mock salute in response. 

He turned a corner on the roof, and only years of practice and controlling his emotions and body kept him from jumping out of his skin when he found a boy staring at him.  
He was tall, dressed in all black, and seemed around Mark’s age. He was staring right at Mark with dark, dark eyes and his face split into a slow, angelic smile at Mark’s bewildered expression. “Hello,” he said quietly, his fingers slowly twirling a wicked-sharp blade with practiced ease. Great. 

Mark’s hand drifted towards the pistol holstered at his hip. “Who the fuck are you?” he replied, which he was pretty proud of himself for, considering his first thought had been _‘um’ _.__

____

____

“The one you’re waiting for, of course,” he said, with such sincerity that Mark had to fight down a blush. _God_ , pretty boys were the absolute worst. He could almost hear Jaemin giggling at reminding him of the time they got drunk and made out. 

“My leader says we’re not supposed to kill you guys. I suggest you put down the knife.” 

The boy quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, are you him then? Lee Taeyong’s lapdog? I’ve heard of you.” 

“I haven’t heard about you at all,” Mark replied icily. It wasn’t strictly the truth. Something nagged at the back of his mind about the Black Pearl having a flawless bladesmith. This couldn’t be him, could it? He was just a kid. 

The boy put a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “Really? You must’ve. My name’s Jeno Lee. I assure you I’m pretty popular.” 

Mark only blinked. “We claimed this territory. Smiths is ours.” 

“Hmm, if only I cared.” 

“The code says-” 

“Fuck the code. I don’t trust you to deal with this fucker,” the boy’s - Jeno’s - shark eyes flashed. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Mark demanded. 

“It means that _Byzantine_ have a reputation for being soft, and this guy has been _raping_ young boys,” his voice was filled with mocking, burning acid. The intensity startled even Mark. 

“We know. The mission is to kill him. We’re going to kill him. Slowly. And then we’re taking his money. It’s Byzantine’s territory. Leave it to us.”

Jeno regarded Mark coolly. Mark wasn’t sure what prompted him, but he said “I promise,” like that meant something. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You have my word. I’ve let victims go before, ones who perhaps deserved it. But not this one. This one dies.” 

Jeno stayed silent for another moment. “It will come at a cost.”

Of course. He bit back a retort, and asked “what cost?”

“Your name.”

That threw Mark off guard. Was he… flirting? Mark hesitated, but only for a second. Anonymity had a certain value when it came to rival gangs, that was for sure. But Mark _wanted_ Jeno to know his name. Besides, he was a criminal. Recklessness came with the job. 

“I’m Mark. Mark Lee.” 

“Same last name,” Jeno noted, nodding. 

“Long lost brothers? Mark said, weakly attempting a joke. 

Jeno raised a dark eyebrow again and slowly stepped closer, sweeping his gaze over Mark, head to toe.  
“God, I hope not.” he replied. 

Mark nearly choked. 

“You can tell Taeyong we’re off of this one. Oh, and. I’ll be patrolling the East bank of the river tomorrow night. Just saying.” 

He pointed his silver knife at Mark for a minute, the tip very nearly touching Mark’s throat. And then he leaped over the side and vanished into the night. 

Later, Mark couldn’t justify to himself what prompted him to actually go. To lie to Taeyong, to lie to Jaemin and Hendery and sneak out of the window with his heart racing. To sit next to Jeno on a river bank until he had enough courage to meet his gaze, and to hold it until Jeno gave him a searing kiss and a wink before disappearing again. To wait for further contact. To see him again, and again, till nearly every week, he was left alone in a motel room to taste and lose Heaven in a night. 

*** 

Jaemin often said that Mark had an incongruous and incurable knack for love. It wasn’t entirely unfair - when Jaemin had joined the gang a year after Mark, Mark was already in too deep with Taeyong. He’d tried to forget that with Jaemin himself, and then a bold boy named Yangyang in a different gang. And now Jeno. Mark could see how unwise it looked from the outside, but to him it was just another part of his life. Another method of pain and pleasure and absolution. He killed the men he didn’t like. He kissed the men he did.

Mark knew Jaemin could relate - Jaemin who smiled and worked with his entire being, Jaemin who pretended nothing bothered him but would cry when a particular sunset was extra beautiful. Mark had a theory about Jaemin’s smiles - there were separate ones for separate occasions. His Devious Smile, for when a mission was incoming. His Killer Smile, for when he released delicious shots at a target. His Flirting Smile, for when he tried to get into the pants of anyone who could move. His Calm smile, or Sunset Smile. Lately, Mark had noticed his Sunset Smile was becoming his Hendery Smile, but he knew better than to ask. 

Sometimes, Taeyong made fun of both of them for it. “Look at you two, in a goddamn gang and whipped for any man with dimples.” 

“Is this about Jaehyun?” Jaemin would ask, his ears perking up. 

Taeyong scowled as he did whenever someone mentioned Jung Jaehyun. “It is never about Jaehyun.” 

The most recent time, Mark had noted the pointed absence of the stab of jealousy in his chest. Moving on from Taeyong happened like a spring awakening. Snow melted, new buds sprouted, and before he knew what was happening, everything was new and green. Mark would love Taeyong forever, but he was beginning to get better at differentiating types of love. 

___“Philia,”_ Jeno had mused once, because of course the loser knew Ancient Greek classics. _“That’s what you should feel for him. Because he feels nothing else for you._  
It was harsh, but that was Jeno. Now, all Mark felt was embarrassment that Jeno even knew about his past feelings for Taeyong. He felt like such a cliche. Every time he met Jeno now, all he wanted to say was, _“It’s you now. Eros. I feel it for you.”_  
Every time he met Jeno now, he did not say it. Instead he kissed Jeno back, feeling like the cold blue ash to the other’s forest fire. He touched him and let himself be touched. Whispered his name and the name of god. Moaned his name and the name of god.  
Every time he met Jeno now, he didn’t want to leave. Every time he met Jeno now, he didn’t have to, because Jeno did. The worst part of it all was that there was no way Jeno didn’t know. Every bit of devotion in Mark’s eyes lay naked for the world to see. 

Tonight, something had been different. 

In his mind’s eye, Mark could see the scene on a movie screen: a car in a deserted street, in the middle of the night and a storm. Water running in rivulets down the surface, reflecting gold and blue and green lights. A hand slamming against a window from the inside, like in the _Titanic._

But this wasn't a movie, and Mark sure as hell wasn't gonna ruin the moment by thinking. Not that it would be a problem too long- Jeno was doing a remarkable job of cutting off Mark's coherent thoughts, his mouth working his way down marks body with practiced ease despite the cramped space, moving his hips gently until all Marks brain could form were jagged curses and Jeno's name. 

A car had never felt this consecrated before. 

When they were done, Jeno had let out a wry chuckle and leaned back in the passenger seat, all six feet of him bare and gleaming with sweat, the reflections of streetlamps through raindrops and the shadows of tree branches fitting into his dips and curves and jutting bones like a work of modern art. 

The ecstacy faded quickly. Something was different. Jeno wasn't leaving at the first chance. He was holding Mark's gaze, his eyes full of words. Mark wished returning the gaze would hold him in place. But it wouldn't, and he'd learned that before.  
The air was thick with... something. Mark felt feverish. Hard feelings. 

As if reading his thoughts, Jeno leaned forward, his gaze searching. Mark let his eyes flutter shut to prevent the other boy from reading them. _"Leave,"_ his brain pleaded. 

Instead, Jeno did the exact opposite and kissed him. He kissed him soft and warm and blue. He kissed him how they never kissed during sex, how they never had the chance to. Lazy, genuine, without ulterior motive. Mark felt his hand go up of its own accord and tangle in Jeno's hair, and Jeno broke off to kiss him on his cheek, softly, and move back to his mouth. 

Mark leaned back and whispered "What are you doing?" 

jeno raised his eyebrows. "What?" 

"Why- I mean. we're done, I'm too tired for another round, Jeno,” he said, sharply. 

Jeno had the gall to look offended. "I wasn't trying to- I didn't think it was going there."

"Okay, so then... it's getting late." Getting the words out hurt Mark's chest. 

Jeno stared at him unblinkingly. "Mark, are you kicking me out?" 

Mark opened his mouth to answer but what he whispered was unintentional and irresponsible, a song lyric from a life before. “Bet you wanna rip my heart out.” 

If Jeno understood, he didn’t show it. HIs eyes were burning with intensity now. "Say it. Are you asking me to leave?" 

"Why do you care? It’s not like I’ve ever even had to ask before." 

Jenos brows furrowed, like his confusion was too great to balance with anger at the same time. Mark wanted to yell, to ask why his feelings were always taken for granted. But Jeno nodded slightly and then he was gone. Dark blue boy melting into the dark blue night.

Now, Mark wandered back to headquarters at a time he didn’t care to check. He felt tired and drained. Wasn’t sex supposed to make you feel alive for a little longer? 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a light on in the sitting room. Taeyong was up. Shit.  
He hoped it was someone else killing time with the television, but no such luck. Taeyong sat on the green couch, frustratingly poised for someone in pajamas. Granted, they were monogrammed silk pajamas, but still. 

“It’s 3 am. Where have you been?” he asked in a soft voice. 

Mark hesitated. “I was- out.”

“Right. Who is he?” Taeyong asked outright, sounding terse. 

Shit. “Hyung...” 

See, hiding Jeno from Taeyong was a result of following a somewhat unspoken rule. There were couples within the gang, but once it was with someone outside… it got tricky. Taeyong had a rule, which Mark strongly suspected had something to do with his history with Jung Jaehyun. Whenever he asked, all he got was a “don’t be ridiculous.” 

That wasn’t all though. After his confession to Taeyong, the confusing rejection… he didn’t exactly want to parade his new not-relationship around. It had started out with sneaking out the first night, but since it had continued after, Mark made Jaemin swear not to tell anyone. Hendery had found out eventually, but he was trustworthy. The problem was, Lee Taeyong was no fool. 

“Goddamn it Mark, you know relationships are risky for us!”

“It’s not a-”

_“Whatever it is!”_ Taeyong sighed. “Look. You’re a grown ass adult, I’m not gonna check up on your sex life, but-” 

“Then don’t.” 

“At least tell me who he is. I know it’s someone from...Black Pearl.”

Mark felt an irrational wave of rage fill his chest. It didn’t even matter how Taeyong possibly knew that. Since when was Mark answerable to Taeyong? Since forever, a small voice replied in his head. Well fuck that. Jeno was his one refuge, no matter who he was, no matter if their relationship was real or not. He wasn’t ready to give that up. 

“Maybe,” Mark said quietly, “if you wanted me to date someone here, you wouldn’t ignore the offer you got.”

Taeyong’s mouth fell open. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, and Mark agreed - it wasn’t. But he was sick of being the fair one. So he simply turned around and walked back to his room, trying (and failing) to avoid the memory of his last conversation with Taeyong about this. 

_Rain was thundering outside and Mark had made the unwise decision of drinking whiskey at dinner. He blamed Jaemin, like he did for most of his bad decisions. It was two goddamn shots, and his head already felt a little fuzzy. Taeyong was in his inner chamber, laughing like he rarely did._

__

__

“You were always such a lightweight,” he joked. Bold words for someone who didn’t let Mark touch alcohol until he’d turned seventeen. 

Mark laughed too, though, taking the jab lighter now that he was tipsy (maybe he took too many jokes at his expense when he was sober too, but that was a thought for another day.) The storm raged on outside and he stayed giggling until Taeyong pulled his shirt off, turning towards the mirror on one wall. He’d gotten injured on a mission a month ago, and a wicked scar shone on his chest. Mark had wanted to kill the boy who’d given to him, and that was… a rare feeling, for Mark. Perhaps it was funny or a little ridiculous, considering his livelihood, but it was true. 

Taeyong turned to Mark, no doubt to make another joke, but Mark saw it die on his lips with his smile. In that moment, Mark knew that he knew. 

“Mark,” he said, so softly that it seemed to make the room grow warmer. “Don’t say it.” 

How could he ask that? How could he be so cruel? Mark was tired of not saying it. Exhausted, really. Unsaid words were like poison, if you left them unsaid long enough. Filled with stubborn resolution (and scotch), he said, “I love you.”

Taeyong shut his eyes briefly, and Mark almost marveled at how easily he could read the other boy’s expression. He’d known for a while now, no doubt. It had been about four years, how could he not? 

When he finally spoke, the reply threatened to break Mark. “I can’t accept… whatever this is.”

Hadn’t he heard him? “Hyung…” Mark said desperately. “Hyung, I said I love you.” 

“I’m no good for you, Mark.” Taeyong said, a little louder. A little more firm. 

But how could that be? How could that be when Taeyong was the only family Mark had ever had, the first person to give him a place to call home, the first person who held his hand and gave him a purpose. 

He couldn’t say a single word of this. 

“Mark, come on. Look at the life I’ve given you.” 

Mark was aghast. “Exactly. Look at the LIFE you’ve given me!” 

Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he understand that Mark would likely be dead without him? Or worse - alive and alone? 

“Mark, I love you. You’re my family. But I can’t give you what you want. I’m sorry.” 

What more was there to be said, really? Mark nodded and stumbled backwards until he broke into a run. He spent the night floating out of his own body. 

_Things were icy for a few days, for a week, for three. A month later, he woke up to songbirds and he got a new mission. Two months later, he met Lee Jeno._

*** 

The thing about Mark’s relationship with Jeno was that it wasn’t a relationship. They’d never even had a conversation about it, per se. For a while, Mark was honest about his feelings for Taeyong. Eventually, he stopped talking about him. Whether Jeno noticed or not, he didn’t know. He hoped he did. 

Jeno was a good listener, and it wasn’t like Taeyong was the only thing Mark talked about. Their conversations weren’t regular - more like bursts of thoughts and anecdotes and stories in between meetings - well, hookups. Though he would never admit it out loud, Mark enjoyed them almost more than he enjoyed the sex. He wanted so badly to _know_ Jeno. To lie in bed and kiss his hand and ask about his favourite colour and flower and city. 

Instead, they shared cigarettes and talked about music. Jeno liked Bowie and Queen. Mark called him pretentious and said the Arctic Monkeys were better. “The Beatles are so overrated,” Mark had argued, once. “Your face is overrated,” Jeno had said incredulously, and then honest-to-god _left_. Mark was too busy laughing to be pissed. 

It was still mostly physical, he knew. But he also knew they were like two magnets circling one another. Call him a romantic, for not being able to let Jeno go. But in love or not, he knew in his gut that Jeno wasn’t about to let him go either. Maybe that’s what kept his feelings going strong for so long. 

“That’s pathetic,” Jaemin had said, once. His best friend was tactful like that. “This guy is hurting you, Mark.” 

“No, he’s not. You’re too protective, Nana.” 

Jaemin had frowned. “I almost get you killed on a regular basis,” he’d pointed out.

Mark sighed and touched Jaemin’s soft pink hair. “Not of my life. Too protective of my _heart._ ” 

*** 

Now, Mark was itching to see Jeno, but spending time away was wise, especially now that he was on Taeyong’s radar. Atleast, that’s what he told himself. That he really didn’t want to get his rival gang not-boyfriend murdered, and it had nothing to do with Jeno’s face when Mark had kicked him out of the car. Nope, that definitely wasn’t his reason for avoiding him. That being said, it had been two weeks since his self-imposed house arrest and Mark was - to put it gently - losing his fucking mind.

"Bro," a voice said, mildly annoyed. 

Mark looked up from - what had he even been doing? This month's accounts? Yeah. 

"Stop jiggling your damn leg." 

Mark looked down, and surely enough, his entire body was vibrating with restlessness. 

Hendery was still staring at him strangely. "Are you good?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Right, okay. Can you maybe, stop… kicking my knives?" 

Mark glanced down, where a knife lay next to his boot. Shit. 

The gang had an unofficial don't-touch-another's-weapons policy after some heated fights involving Jaemin’s pistols and an unfortunate, “purely accidental” bullet wound in Lucas Wong’s foot. Hendery was generally the most pleasant gangster Mark had ever met, but he was looking at Mark with a slight glint in his eye. 

“I- shit, I’m sorry, man.” Mark picked up the knife and wiped it on his shirt. “Um, I’ll buy you a few beers tonight, okay?” 

Hendery nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but his fingers wrapped protectively around the hilt when Mark returned it. 

“I think you need a mission,” Hendery said, flatly. “You’re driving us crazy with your edginess.” 

“Hey - wait who’s _we?_ ” 

Hendery flushed. If Mark had been less annoyed, he would have taken the opportunity to tease the other boy. Instead, he demanded, “so you and Jaemin have been gossipping about me?” 

“Who have I been gossipping about?” Jaemin asked briskly, sweeping into the room as if on cue, as dramatic as ever in his white cotton skirt and leather jacket. 

“Me, apparently,” Mark repeated, glaring at Hendery. 

“Babe, what’d you tell him?”

Hendery flushed deeper. “Nothing! Just that he needs an assignment because-” 

“Oh! one step ahead of you,” Jaemin interrupted, flashing a grin. He wiggled his fingers at Mark. “Go see Ten, he has something for you.” 

Mark didn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of looking relieved, but his chest relaxed automatically. Finally, something to do. Somewhere to go. The city was calling him, and maybe Jeno was too. 

He practically ran to the basement, their “armoury”, where Ten spent most of his time. Officially, Ten was the weapons guy. Unofficially, he was Taeyong’s right-hand man. He never went on missions himself, but he helped assign them to other members. He mostly handled the manufacture and trade of every weapon owned by a Byzantine member. He was friendly enough, but sometimes a bit of a mystery. Mark knew he was close to Taeyong, but he himself hadn’t had many one-on-one conversations with the older boy. Everyone had theories about Ten’s name, the most popular being that he had killed Ten men and then swore never to do it again, which was why he stayed away from the action. True or not, Mark didn’t doubt Ten’s ability to fight, with the dancer’s grace that he moved. 

Mark found him polishing guns at his worktable, soft jazz wafting out of the speakers. For a weapons den in a basement, the place was well-lit. 

“Jaemin says you have something for me,” Mark said in lieu of a greeting. 

Ten looked up, his serious eyes boring into Mark. “Quick B&E. We need to plant a bug in Senator Yew’s house. The old one stopped giving us transmissions. Lucas suspects a tech error.” 

“I’ve been to Yew’s before for a job.” 

“I know, that’s why Taeyong trusts you enough right now to go do it again.” Ouch. 

“Fine. I’ll go get ready.” He was determined not to let Ten see the hurt on his face. 

“Mark - no trouble, got it?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “This isn’t even a high-risk mission.”

“I know, and that’s why you’re taking Jisung with you.” 

_“What?”_

Ten shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We don’t want you distracted by your little boyfriend, do we?”

Mark’s cheeks flushed. “Taeyong doesn’t control me. I can see whoever I want.” 

“Sure, in your free time. And you know, preferably not with a _rival_. But this is work hours for you.” 

“So he’s making me babysit?”

“You’re not babysitting, you’re mentoring. Jisung is seventeen and he’s only been on stakeout missions so far. The kid’s gotta learn to shoot eventually.” He brandished the gun he was polishing to make his point. 

“Shoot? What happened to ‘no trouble’?” 

Ten smiled wider, his eyes glinting like a cat’s. “Have fun, and please don’t get him killed. You know Taeyong makes me do the paperwork when he’s cranky.” 

Mark bit back a curse and stalked out of the room. 

***

Park Jisung was Byzantine Empire’s current youngest recruit, and also the quietest. He shadowed Mark soundlessly when they made their way over rooftops in the dark. That was fine by Mark, he was too moody to make small talk. Jisung was armed with a single handgun, and Mark doubted his ability to use even that. Mark himself was carrying two pistols, less than his usual, but he didn’t expect an eventful night.

They knelt on the ground of a rooftop and watched Senator Yew’s windows until the moon rose high in the sky, they queen greeting her courtiers, the stars. 

"So…. We go into his study, right?" Jisung whispered, his voice controlled but betraying his nerves.

Mark couldn't tell if the younger boy was simply attempting to break the silence or if he was just that nervous. Either way, he felt a little bad for him.

"Let's go over the plan again, yeah?” Mark offered. “We climb in through the window - the idiot leaves it locked but it’s easy to pick. I'll plant the bug in the lampshade, replacing the old one. You just have to watch the door and make sure no one wakes up, got it? If they do… we run like hell. But that won’t happen if you do your job, which is to _stay quiet._ " 

"I'm good at that," Jisung muttered, but his pale fingers fidgeted with the handle of his gun. 

"It'll be fine. It'll be quick, and then maybe we can get wasted, okay? I owe Hendery drinks already." 

Jisung blinked. "I'm seventeen." 

Mark grinned. "Yeah, and?" 

Jisung stared at him and smiled wider, "sounds cool, hyung." Cute. 

Mark glanced at his watch and got to his feet, hand brushing his holster briefly for comfort. In his mind, he whispered a prayer like he always did, but when he closed his eyes all he saw was Jeno. Annoyed, he patted Jisung's shoulder. "Let's go." 

*** 

After a few years into working at Byzantine, Mark learned that scaling a wall was the easy part. He reached absentmindedly for handholds and footholds on the brick wall, surveying the quiet street. Rich people got so much privacy at night. They’d had only one security guard, who Jisung had done a good job chloroforming. The kid had an uncanny ability for melting into the shadows. The Senator’s study was on the second floor of the mansion, a floor below the bedroom. Thick curtains kept them from being able to see inside, but it also kept them from being seen. 

Mark got to work picking the window’s lock while Jisung grunted and swayed precariously on his ledge below Mark’s. It swung open fast enough, soundless. Thank God for frequent maintenance and renovations. Mark held a finger to his lips and gestured to Jisung, climbing through the window. His heavy boots thudded softly against the carpeted floor.

A large mahogany desk sat at one side of the room, covered with scattered files, papers and books. A bookcase in the corner held more thick books. Every bit of the room was furnished richly with wood or velvet, and priceless objects lay everywhere - clocks, paperweights, antique showpieces. Years of practice were all that kept Mark from swiping some of it. 

Jisung came in behind him, unholstering it and holding it up surprisingly unshakingly. Mark turned to smile at him and thought he saw a familiar shadow move behind him, but it was gone in a second. He shook his head and turned back to the task at hand. 

He crept to the lampshade in the corner and reached in with a gloved hand. He came up empty. Where was the bug? It had positively been placed here before. Lucas never got his bearings wrong. There were also no other lamps in the room, so there was no reason it wouldn’t be here unless-

Shit. He reacted too late, despite his body moving faster than his mind. A gunshot echoed through the air as the study door opened with a loud thud, and Mark lunged. Jisung dove to the ground next to him as a bullet ricocheted off a mini metal telescope. A masked gunman with the Senator’s insignia on his shirt was pointing a gun and shouting. Mark’s ears were ringing too loud to make out the words. He grabbed one of his pistols and shot, cursing as he missed by an inch. He dove behind the desk as the man shot at him again, bullets cutting through the beautiful dark wood. 

Fucking _hell._

Silence fell in a moment and Mark dared to peek behind the desk, and saw that the man was pointing his gun at Jisung, who was shaking behind a chair, his grip on his gun all wrong. 

“No, Jisung-” Mark whispered, but the bullet was already making its way through the air. 

In the next second, time stilled and three things happened at once. Mark dove in front of Jisung, a shadow entered through the window and knocked the younger boy to the ground, and everything slipped away. Mark couldn’t tell who was screaming right before he passed out.

*** 

Consciousness returned in jagged pieces and got yanked away periodically, plunging Mark into the intangible space between light and dark. Everything he perceived was in flashes, dream mingling with reality: A voice screaming his name. A voice whispering his name. Warm lips against his. A metallic taste in his mouth.The sound of sirens. Cold hands tightly gripping his own. The sharp smell of anesthesia. A bright light in his eyes. A high ceiling… or no, the sky? 

When he finally woke, it was to the sound of silence. His eyes hurt, probably from the sunlight streaming in through the arching windows. He was in the infirmary, he realised. He blinked and tilted his head, and his fuzzy head got fuzzier. 

Jeno was asleep in an armchair next to his cot, his head lolling onto his shoulder. He looked wrecked, his hair and clothes rumpled, his cheeks pale and the bags under his eyes dark. 

Mark blinked again and glanced downward. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and red-stained bandages covered his entire midsection. As if he had needed to see the source of pain to feel it, a searing ache shot through his entire body. He fell back with a groan and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Mark, Mark-” careful hands touched his forehead and Renjun Huang’s face peered into Mark’s. “You’re alright,” their resident medical intern said, his voice soothing. Mark’s eyes fluttered shut again. 

“Mark-” another voice, this one more familiar. 

“Get out, Lee.” The first voice - Renjun - said, still calm. 

Mark’s eyes cracked open again, and Jeno looked mutinous. What had happened? Why was Jeno even here? 

Renjun looked unperturbed by the glare. “Go tell Taeyong he’s awake but he cannot take visitors yet. I need to speak with Mark, and you will all give him his space.”

“I don’t take orders from you, you fu-” 

“Jeno,” Mark croaked. The others paused. “It’s alright.” 

Jeno gave Mark another piercing look, and without a word stalked out of the room. 

A moment of silence later, Renjun spoke again. “Okay, Mark. Can you lift your neck for me a little?” He held a glass of water to Mark’s lips, and he felt like a new man after eagerly chugging a few sips. 

“What happened?” he asked, after he’d had his fill. 

Renjun sat down in Jeno’s now-empty chair, leaning down and inspecting Mark’s bandages as he spoke. “You were out for a couple days. You got shot during the Yew mission, in the stomach.” Mark wasn’t sure if it was typical for nurses to deliver every gory detail of the patient’s injury the second they first gained consciousness, but being aware was more important to Mark than anything else. He was infinitely grateful to his friend for being pragmatic. 

“You were bleeding so much,” Renjun continued. “I… You’re very lucky. You dove in front of Jisung. Poor kid is a wreck… but you saved his life.” 

Mark’s mind raced. “Jeno?” he asked, pleadingly. 

Renjun pursed his lips. “He was there. Apparently he’d been on a tailing mission near the mansion when he saw you and Jisung. It’s miraculous, really. If he hadn’t taken care of the gunman and helped Jisung carry you back… there’s no way you would’ve survived.” 

Jeno had done that? Saved his life? He’d saved Jisung’s life? It was supposed to have been a risk-free mission. Tears filled Mark’s eyes quickly, party due to the pain, and party something else. 

Renjun put his fingers in Mark’s hair briefly. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’ll recover. It’s a lot, but… everything will be okay.” 

Mark stared out the window, willing the tears not to fall. 

“You’re not ready for visitors yet. Would you like to sleep some more?”

Mark nodded slightly. 

“Okay, I’ll administer a bit more morphine. Try and relax.” 

Mark closed his eyes, and reality faded again. 

***

When Mark opened his eyes again, it was to low light and soft sniffles. The infirmary was empty except for Jaemin who was sitting next to the cot, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Hey,” Mark whispered.

Jaemin’s head whipped up. “You’re awake! That stupid bitch - uh, Jeno, told us you were awake but Renjun didn’t let anyone in- God, are you okay Markie? How are you feeling” 

Mark smiled, despite himself. “Like utter shit. Like, two-steps-away-from-death-shit.”

Jaemin looked so worried that Mark almost regretted being honest. “But hey, I hear two steps away is better than none,” 

Jaemin smiled at that. “You scared the shit out of me. You should’ve seen the sight you were, being dragged in by two teenage boys- Jisung was hysterical and Jeno was covered in blood. I thought I lost you,” he whispered the last part, another tear tracing down his face. He leaned down and grasped Mark’s hand, and Mark squeezed. 

“I’m here, Jaem.” 

Jaemin must have heard his unspoken question - no doubt it was written all over his face. 

“He’s been here for three days. Taeyong has been losing his mind. We’re basically housing an enemy. He even threatened Jeno with a gun, but the guy didn’t even flinch. No one even tried to take his knives from him. He just sits there and broods, won’t eat anything, won’t leave your side as long as he can win arguments with Renjun. Can you believe that? He won arguments with Huang fucking Renjun,” Jaemin said all of this in one breath, sending Mark’s head spinning more and more with every word. It just didn’t make sense. 

Jaemin must’ve heard that, too, because he smiled. “Don’t be an obtuse idiot now, Mark. Not after all this shit. A fucking gun shot didn’t kill you, don’t make me. That boy loves you.” 

Mark swallowed. “Okay. So where is he now?” 

“Oh,” Jaemin waved his ringed fingers. “I slipped a sleeping pill in his water.” 

Mark choked. 

“What?” he demanded, noticing Mark’s face. “There’s no way he was gonna occupy my visiting slot.” 

And then, inexplicably, though it burned like hellfire, Mark began to laugh. He laughed until Jaemin joined in, until both their voices were hoarse, until his best friend’s warm hands in his hair and soft humming lulled him back to sleep. 

*** 

The next time Mark got a visitor, he was awake. He was admittedly relieved- he was starting to feel stuck, weak, and _bored_. Mark was no stranger to injuries, but a bullet wound in the stomach was a definite first. His perception of time was still warped and jagged, his sleep schedule utterly fucked by the pain meds and the… well, pain. He was starting to get sick of dozing off and waking up to Renjun’s fussing. 

Being awake and alert (kind of) also saved him a lot of embarrassment, considering the fact that the visitor in question was Lee Jeno himself. He walked into the infirmary with a brave imitation of his usual swagger, but Mark could see that he was faking. He looked a little less terrible than he had the previous day, and Mark wondered if Jaemin’s sleeping pill idea wasn’t so bad after all. He also realised, with a shock, that Jeno was wearing Jaemin’s shirt - a faded pink tee so different from his usual black turtlenecks. He looked… soft. Mark almost laughed. It was so at odds with the two knife hilts he knew jeno was clutching in his fisted hands. 

Jeno spoke first, in a ragged voice. “Mark Lee,” he declared, as always. Fireworks went off in Mark’s chest. 

Jeno sat in the chair, watching Mark carefully. He was waiting, Mark realised, for a response. 

Without meaning to, Mark thought of the last time they were together, in the car with a ghost of love. It felt like a lifetime ago. Being so close to Jeno now made his skin itch and glow at once. 

_Hi, I love you, I missed you, thank you for saving me,_ Mark thought. What he finally said was, “why are you here?” It came out as a whisper. 

Jeno took a deep breath, like he was preparing to deliver a speech. “Because,” he said quietly, “I just don’t fucking know what I would do with myself if I lost you.” 

Mark’s heart thumped against his chest, as if every beat was telling him not to be stupid. He stared at Jeno, rid-brimmed chocolate brown eyes meeting his own - no longer as sharp as a shark’s, missing all his bravado.

“You didn’t lose me,” Mark said softly. “You _saved_ me.”

Jeno smiled his arrogant smile. “I always knew I was better at my job than you, Lee.” 

Mark rolled his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, _Lee._ ” 

Jeno obliged, leaning forward carefully, casting a wary glance at Mark’s bandages. He hovered so close that Mark could count his eyelashes. But when they kissed, Jeno didn’t treat Mark like he was made of glass. Like he was something that was fragile, something that could crack and shatter. He kissed Mark like he was exactly what he was- like a boy strong and stubborn and stupid and desperately in love. 

Jeno pulled away, and took a breath. “You know,” he drawled. “I love you.” 

Mark huffed. “Took you long enough.” 

After that, he said it back, but Jeno swallowed the sound. It didn’t really matter- Mark could still taste the words, and they were as sweet as the spring air. 

*** 

Jeno ended up snuggled on the cot with Mark, eyes fluttering shut and fingers tracing the edges of his bandages. Renjun would probably have a fit when he returned, but Mark couldn’t be bothered to care. He was shot and he didn’t care. He could sink into bliss like this. 

“Get out,” a voice called, coldly. Mark blinked and raised his neck, and looked up to see Taeyong standing in the dim doorway. 

Jeno was on his feet in seconds, knife in hand. When he saw who it was, he hastily wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and shot Taeyong an impressive glare.

Taeyong sighed. “I meant get out of the _room_. You can stay here till Jaehyun comes and drags your ass back to Black Pearl.” 

Jeno looked unsure, but Mark nodded slightly at him, feeling a thud of disappointment in his chest as he hinted at Jeno to leave for the second time in two days. It was short-lived when he remembered what had just transpired - then he felt like grinning like a fool again. 

Jeno apparently felt the same way, because he didn’t put up a fight. “Just... tell me when you’re done.” he gave Taeyong a dramatic, sweeping bow, and then shot Mark a quicksilver smile before he disappeared. 

Taeyong rolled his eyes at the younger boy, then turned to Mark and sighed. 

“Hi, hyung.” Mark said softly. “You didn’t visit.” 

Taeyong’s eyes glinted. “Do I have to explain to you what an imbecile you are?”

“Ten told me not to get Jisung killed.” 

“I’m not _saying_ you shouldn't have protected him, Mark-”

“Then what?” Mark demanded. “Don't you think a lecture is a little useless right now, hyung?” 

“I don’t care what’s useless, because I almost _lost you!_ ” Taeyong said, volume rising. Mark started. Taeyong never shouted. It was what made him such a good leader. Taeyong sighed harshly, like he was exhaling out his anger. “Besides, I could always lecture you about one of the other hundred things you cause me trouble with. Namely, the thing standing outside the door right now.” 

“Jeno saved my life,” Mark replied. 

Taeyong let out a short laugh. “Believe me, I know that. Why else would he still be alive, much less _here?_ ” 

“That’s the only reason?”

“That and… You love him.” It wasn’t a question, so Mark didn’t give an answer. 

“Oh gee, so now my dating life is fine with you?” he asked instead, his voice sulky. 

Taeyong’s eyes softened. He walked closer to Mark’s cot and leaned forward, touching his forehead to Mark’s. “Markie,” he whispered. “You’re alive. Right now, _anything_ is fine by me.”

Mark took a shaky breath. “I love you, hyung.” he said quietly, and for a moment he allowed himself to pause time and marvel at himself for the words he had just said, for the words that had slipped out like soft velvet. Words that made flowers bloom in his chest instead of thorns. Taeyong was his family. 

Taeyong smiled, like he felt it too. “I love you too, idiot. Just... tell me you’ll be careful.” 

Mark grinned. “A bullet wound couldn’t kill me,” he said, echoing Jaemin. “Some boy definitely can’t.” And if that was a lie, if Lee Jeno was a blade that could unravel Mark faster than the ones he wielded, faster than a bullet, even...well. That was no one’s business but Mark’s. RIght now, he would take his chances. 

*** 

Taeyong gave them two days before he told Jeno to call his gang. 

“You’ve been treated as an honourable guest here long enough, it’s time to go home.” 

Jeno scoffed. _“Honourable?”_ he demanded. “One of your guys tripped me in the corridor like a third grader.” 

Hendery murmured, “twice,” serenely smiling from where he was leaning against the infirmary wall, and Jaemin chortled. Mark had noticed the dark haired boy hanging around Jaemin much easier - sometimes they had their fingers laced together. Mark was happy for them, but he made a mental note to grill Jaemin about it later. 

Mark couldn’t help but grin either. “He got you _twice?_ You, Mr. Lithe Shadow Man?” 

Jeno glowered at him. “I was busy worrying my ass off about a certain dunderhead.” 

Honestly, who said _dunderhead_ anymore? Jeno was pretentious even with his mild insults. Oh, how Mark loved him. 

Underneath it all, he was terrified of what would happen if Jeno called Jaehyun. He’d been hovering around enemy territory for so long, and now he was _dating_ one of the aforementioned enemies. Jeno casually brushed off the topic whenever it came up, but Mark knew he was worried too. 

Still, it couldn’t exactly be delayed much longer. Jaehyun was bound to be getting impatient, along with the rest of Jeno’s friends. Not to mention Taeyong’s excessive bending of rules over the course of the week. It was inescapable, but Mark vowed that nothing was going to make him give Jeno up. 

The night before he was supposed to go back, he slept in Mark’s bed. Like he knew the topic was unavoidable, he sighed. “It’s gonna be okay. You know, I’m not letting you go this easy, Mark Lee.”

Mark smiled shyly despite himself. “You’re a giant sap, Jeno. Everyone who doesn’t think so is a fool.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeno muttered firmly, before leaning in to kiss Mark. 

After that, well. There wasn’t much more to be said.

***  
Jung Jaehyun and the Black Pearl strolled into headquarters with much less pomp and drama than Mark had expected. Most of the qualified members of Byzantine - more importantly, the ones closest to Mark and Taeyong and this whole debacle- had assembled in the foyer. Ten, serious and unarmed. Hendery with his knives and Jaemin with an ornate pistol. Renjun, holding a first aid box and looking annoyed. Jisung, looking scared but determined. And of course, Taeyong, his face carefully blank and controlled. Mark and Jeno stood in the center of the room, holding hands tightly. 

Jaehyun was atrociously handsome in person, dressed in all black except a gold embroidered blazer. If he had any weapons, Mark couldn’t see them. Behind him stood a boy that Mark recognised from Jeno’s descriptions - Lee Donghyuck. Long legged, honey-skinned, wavy haired. He held a short dagger. Next to him was a younger boy, probably around Jisung’s age. He had green hair and a strong jaw, gripping his handgun carefully. He was the only one to smile when his gaze fell on Jeno. 

Jaehyun was the first person to break the silence. “Taeyong. I’ve missed you,” he said. 

Taeyong smiled, and Mark could almost see the flash of sharp fangs. “Lucky me,” he replied flatly. 

Jaehyun seemed unbothered by the rudeness. He hummed and fixed his stare on Jeno. “Do we need to talk about your _gang_ kidnapping one of my best fighters?” 

_“One of?”_ Jeno muttered. Both leaders ignored him, though Donghyuck shot him an amused grin. 

“Hardly a kidnapping,” Taeyong said. “You’re free to take him back. In fact, I’d encourage it.”

Donghyuck grinned wider at that. The green-haired boy elbowed him, and Mark noticed Donghyuck turn to observe the people around the room. He paused at Renjun, eyes raking up and down the medic. 

“Hyu- Jaehyun, please,” Jeno began. “I told you I’ve been here voluntarily, I was here for Mark. He got shot and-”

“He looks fine to me,” Jaehyun said coolly, cutting Jeno off. 

Mark shrugged, irritation sparking in his stomach. “I heal fast. And Jeno saved me.”

Jaehyun looked unsurprised but still annoyed. “Playing Romeo for the enemy isn’t exactly the heroism you think it is, Jeno,” he chided. 

“Romeo was a dumb dramatic bitch who didn’t fact-check and offed himself. That’s so not what I did. Also, come on, isn’t the word _enemy_ a little extra? You can’t seriously be mad about this.” 

Jaehyun looked a little incredulous and then let out a defeated sigh. Taeyong shot Mark a small smile. _“See?”_ his eyes seemed to say. _“This is how insufferable you are to me.”_ Mark resisted the urge to flip him off. 

“Any chance we could discuss this over alcohol?” Jaehyun muttered. Jaemin let out a laugh at that. Taeyong shot him a look. 

“Fine, but no one else is invited.”

“But hyung-” Mark started. 

“Quiet. This is between the gangs, not just you. You can wait with the rest. Anyone else who wants to leave is free to do so.” 

He turned and stalked towards his office, Jaehyun on his tail. 

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room as the two leaders left. Ten left, saluting Mark, and Jisung looked like there was nothing he’d like more than to leave but stayed anyway. Mark felt a twinge of pity for the kid. 

Jeno let go of Mark’s hand and walked forward towards his friends. Donghyuck said something to him, his eyes angry, but he engulfed Jeno in a hug a moment later. 

The younger boy came forward and smiled at Mark brightly. “Hi, I’m Chenle.” 

That set off a flurry of introductions with the two new boys, and Mark watched with quiet thrill as Jeno’s friends met his. He couldn’t put it in words, but it felt like a big moment, despite the circumstances. Warmth bloomed in his chest like summer flowers. Jaemin was gushing about Jaehyun’s jawline while Chenle admired his skirt, and Renjun was standing with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed as Donghyuck visibly flirted with him. 

Jeno laced his fingers with Mark’s, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “One big happy crime family.” 

Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him in front of all their stupid friends.

Before he could follow through on that idea, Taeyong and Jaehyun stalked back into the room. Mark noticed that Taeyong’s hair was almost imperceptibly tousled, though his poker face was still perfect. Jaehyun looked the slightest bit pleased, if his twitching lips were any indicator. 

“Right,” Taeyong began after everyone fell awkwardly silent. “So we decided no one’s in actual trouble.” 

Jisung looked like he would pass out from relief. Mark felt similarly, but Jeno only rolled his eyes. “Neither of you were ever gonna actually _punish_ me or Mark.” 

Jaehyun raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You want to test that theory, Jeno Lee?” he asked coolly. Jeno fell silent. 

“We decided that given the circumstances,” Jaehyun continued. “We have to chalk up an alliance of sorts. A lot of our work overlaps anyway.”

“That being said,” Taeyong stressed, “Mark and Jeno, along with the rest of you, are not allowed to divulge any details of missions that Byzantine and Black Pearl are not sharing. I’m serious about this.”

“ _We’re serious,_ ” Jaehyun added. Taeyong’s mask slipped enough to shoot a glare at the other man. 

Mark knew Jeno well enough to see that he had been tense up until then, but now his body was utterly relaxed and a smile made its way to his face. Mark felt similarly. Logically, he knew there hadn’t been anything preventing him from continuing to be with Jeno, but he had worried. Now, having it out in the open, an _alliance_ \- it made him feel damn near euphoric, he didn’t care what he had to sign to make it happen. It was interesting in more ways than one, and he would be having a long talk with Taeyong about his equation with Jaehyun - but that was a conversation for the future. Right now, he just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. 

As if reading his mind, Jeno said, “Okay, cool, send me the document or whatever. Right now I gotta take Mark on a date.”

Mark looked at him, surprised. 

Jaehyun snapped, “You’re coming _home_ right now, Jeno.” 

“Later, in a couple hours! I promise, hyung,” Jeno replied airily. 

He tugged at Mark’s hand, pulling them towards the door. He paused next to Donghyuck and kissed his best friend’s cheek on their way out, “See you later.” 

“Mark!” Taeyong called, looking furious. “You’re _wounded._ ” Renjun seconded that, looking aghast. 

“I’ll make sure we go somewhere normal,” Mark reassured them, eyes flicking to Jaemin as he said it. “I think I’ve earned a day out.” His best friend’s eyes shone. 

Mark realised with a little bit of shame and a lot of pride that Jeno really did seem to be teaching him to be more reckless - no, more bold, because he turned to the Black Pearl members and bowed slightly, like he hadn’t just caused them all a world of trouble. “Thanks for coming by!” 

With that, he followed his laughing boyfriend out into the afternoon light. 

***  
Later, as they watched multicoloured lights dance across dark blue water, Jeno whispered that he loved Mark, and Mark hummed along to the old lyric that he’d once associated with Jeno. _Bet you wanna rip my heart out._

Jeno hadn’t responded to it the first time, that night in the car. Now, he looked at Mark seriously and said, “I don’t.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “No?” he asked softly.

“No. I’m giving you my whole damn heart. You’re fucking sacred, Mark Lee.” 

Mark didn’t think he had the words to respond to that, so he leaned in and kissed Jeno softly, like they had all the time in the world. Mark kissed Jeno like he was thanking his higher power, and Jeno kissed Mark like he was that higher power. It tasted like mint ice cream. Like neon pink lights. Like orange flowers. Like ocean perfume. Like holy water.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really think Jaemin's skirts are the most important part of this fic


End file.
